Behaving
by layhee
Summary: They are a nun and a priest. There are rules. KateRemington.


Sister Valentine pushed her glasses up to pinch the bridge of her nose. It had been a _long_ day. And, she noted with a sigh as she let the glasses fall back into place, it wasn't over yet. The sunlight was orange as it streamed through the tall windows above her desk, reminding her that she still had at least an hour before she could retreat to her rooms. Of course, even once she was there she would still have more work to do. There was always, _always_ more work to do.

Propping her chin up on one hand, she sifted through the stack of papers on her desk. Funding, funding, mission analysis reports, funding, Elder's request for funding, Rosette's latest disaster, funding… she suppressed a groan. Tiredly, she picked up her tea and raised it to her lips, but drew back and frowned in distaste.

"Bad tea?"

She jumped enough to slosh several drops onto the dark oak of her desk and repressed the urge to curse. "No, Father," she replied, mopping it up with her sleeve as discreetly as possible and hoping he hadn't noticed, "Just cold."

Remington nodded and sauntered the rest of the way into the room, closing the door behind him. "Would you like me to put another pot on?"

"Yes, please," she replied, "There's some Darjeeling in the cupboard, as well as Earl Grey, I believe."

"Which would you prefer?" he asked, placing the small, tin kettle on the woodstove in one corner.

She smiled slightly. "Earl Grey."

"Alright. One pot of Earl Grey, coming right up." Chuckling, he seated himself on the couch opposite her desk, slinging one arm over the back comfortably. "It'll be a minute or so. What are you working on?"

"Funding requests," she told him, and paused as her eyes flitted across Rosette's report. Quirking an eyebrow, she held it up. "Have you seen this?"

He stretched forward to take it from her and scanned over it briefly. He laughed quietly, "When will that girl stop acting as though life is a wild bull for her to ride? This…" he laughed again, "How much will all of this cost to repair?"

"Oh, nearly two hundred dollars," Kate sighed. "She does a good job, though, when she does it."

Remington nodded. "She's a good kid." The kettle whistled plaintively and he stood to make the tea. "Have I ever mentioned that I like this stove?"

"You have," she nodded, smiling faintly. "But thank you nonetheless. It used to be in my grandmother's schoolhouse in Indiana, nearly fifty years ago now. When the school closed, she had it moved into her own house. When I joined the Order, I brought it with me."

Remington nodded, and the room fell into comfortable silence as he waited for the tea to steep. Kate's pen scratched at the paper as she signed off Elder's grant. A minute or so later, he set her refilled cup down on her desk in front of her. She looked up, startled again. "Two sugars—?"

"Of course," he smiled. "I've made you tea enough times to know how you like it." He paused. "Of course, I remember the time I got it wrong… I still have that scar, you know!"

"It was your own fault!" she protested, "_I_ didn't put that chair there, _you'd_ moved it earlier. It was your own fault you tripped over it."

"And your fault that I was backing away from you fast enough to trip," he pointed out mildly, sipping his own cup.

She shook her head, glowering slightly. With a vague air of sulkiness, she took a sip of tea and sifted through her papers. Several slid off the edge of her desk, gliding smoothly to the floor in the far corner. Grumbling, she stood and went to collect them. Remington was there before she was, and somehow managed to pick up a good sized stack in the time it took her to get three. He handed them to her and she smiled graciously. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," he returned. "That's quite a pile. How long have you been working?"

"Not too long," she dodged. How long was long? If long was a year, she had been working only a very short while indeed. If long was several hours, on the other hand…

He raised a meaningful eyebrow at her. "How long, Kate?"

She sighed, setting the papers on the desk. With one hand on the back of her waist in a gesture that unintentionally gave away her fatigue, she met his eyes. "Not long." _Since I got up this morning. I didn't have breakfast, I didn't have lunch, but I'll never tell you._

He searched her eyes for a long moment, then took her by the arm and pulled her toward the door. "We," he said firmly, "are going to get you out of here."

"Father, I really don't think—" she tried to protest, but they were already in the hallway. A passing nun looked oddly at them before continuing on her way.

After several corridors, he stopped and looked down at her. "Now, can I let go of your arm or do I have to drag you all the way there?"

She very nearly rolled her eyes at him and jerked her arm out of his grasp.

"Alright," he nodded easily. "Now, follow me, or I swear I'll drag you, kicking and screaming, if I have to."

"At least tell me where we're going," she implored, trailing after him as he swept out the main doors of the abbey. "Father!"

The sunlight was warm, even so late in the day. She half-jogged to keep up with him, having to haul her dress up to not stumble in the long grass as they crossed the grounds toward the forest. Her shoes were stiff and cumbersome, and she noted with some distaste that it had been far too long since she'd done any work in the field. They passed into the forest and followed a narrow path between the trees, her gazing around with interest and him leading the way. The last time she'd been in the forest had been more than a year ago.

At last, they burst out of the dense trees onto a grassy slope. Before them stretched a vast lake, glittering red and orange in the setting sun. A rocky bank dropped away several yards away, and Father Remington made himself at home on top of a large, rounded boulder near the water's edge. He looked back at her over his shoulder and beckoned.

She approached carefully, not wanting to lose her balance on the rocks. Irritably, she untied her shoes and yanked them off, leaving them on the grass and climbing down the rocks barefoot to get better traction. As she slid down onto his rock, her dress caught and pulled upwards, revealing far more petticoat and stocking-covered leg than she would've liked. She didn't fail to catch his gaze jump from there back to her face as he helped her down.

Embarrassed, she sat and smoothed her dress out. "Excuse me," she apologized delicately.

"Don't worry about it," he smiled lightly, "I'm a priest, remember?"

She laughed, a little nervously. _Then what were you looking at so intently?_ A cool breeze swept across the lake and pushed back her hood before she could react. By the time she had her hands up to put it back into place, it was so far gone as to need a mirror to be properly replaced. Sighing for what seemed like the millionth time that day, she took it the rest of the way off and unwrapped her collar, tucking them under another rock so as not to be blown away.

She ran a hand through her hair to loosen it after being trapped under the tight hood all day and gazed out at the water. The sun was off it now, having sunk nearly below the horizon, and nearly straight above them a quarter moon was beginning to make its entrance. The sky was still tinted with pinks and yellows, but it had the look of an old sunset. It would soon be dark.

Feeling Remington's eyes on her, she looked over at him quizzically. "I don't think I've seen you without your hood since that mission in 1917."

She groaned, letting her face fall into her hands. "Don't remind me!"

Chuckling, he shook his head. "That's not what I meant. I wanted to say—" he hesitated, seeming almost at an uncharacteristic loss for words. "I mean, I think you look quite—quite lovely without it."

Her gaze snapped up to his. "Father…"

He smiled and looked back out at the lake. She thought she picked up a trace of sadness in the gentle line of his mouth, but she was quite sure she was imagining it. A long moment of silence later, he spoke softly. "Forgive me, Sister," he murmured. "That was not my place."

"No, it wasn't," she agreed, unsettled but not angry. She softened her words by placing her hand over his kindly. "But I forgive you." She paused. "Thank you."

Now it was his turn to look at her in surprise. Slowly, he smiled. "You're welcome."

* * *

As the world settled into night, they made their way back to the abbey. Remington walked her, arm in arm, back to her room. Outside her door, they stopped and she reluctantly withdrew from him. "Thank you for bringing me there, Ewan," she said quietly. "I think… that I really needed that."

He smiled. "It was my pleasure. Perhaps we can go there again sometime."

"Perhaps," she said noncommittally, feeling sad that it had to be that way.

He seemed to pick up on her thoughts and touched kind fingers to her cheek. "Get some rest, Kate," he told her gently. The fingers on her face slid into her hair. "I'll see you in the morning."

She nodded, but did not move away. She couldn't. Her feet, still clad only in stockings, were rooted quite solidly to the cold stone floor. She looked up at him, wishing he would give her a push towards her door to get her started, because on her own she didn't seem to have the capability. "I…" she trailed off.

He was close. She had scarcely noticed how close they were standing. There were mere inches, not even a foot, between them, and he was touching her. The hand that was sliding gently through her hair was forbidden on so many levels, but she was powerless to stop him. Was he moving closer, or were her tired old eyes playing tricks on her?

His free hand snaked up and pulled off her glasses, folding them easily and slipping them into the pocket of her dress. With both hands now, he cupped her face and peered down at her intensely. She shut her blurry eyes. "You are so beautiful," he whispered, his voice somewhere startlingly near her ear. Hot breath washed over her neck and she shivered.

She pulled away, using what little strength remained in her legs to take a step back, but her back came up against the wall. "Ewan," she warned weakly, "please… we're—we can't. You know we can't."

He nodded, stepping back as well. "I know," he acknowledged slowly. "I know. I'm sorry."

She watched him as well as she could through unaided eyes. It was hard to tell what he was feeling, let alone thinking, and the moment passed gradually. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision. "Good night, Kate," he whispered, and leaned in to kiss her briefly, chastely, on the cheek.

Had it been any earlier than a quarter to midnight, she might not have allowed her hand to snap up to the base of his neck and keep him near her, might not have allowed his lips to linger against her skin. She felt him pull back a fraction of an inch, and in the small, dark space between them, their eyes met. Her mouth found his and kept it as her arms wound around his shoulders and his around her waist. It occurred dimly to her that she was a woman of twenty nine and had never kissed a man before, and that that was something she should be somewhat embarrassed about, but as he pulled her close it didn't matter. Her hood and shoes fell from her grasp to the floor, but they didn't matter. They were the two heads of the Magdalene Order, but that didn't matter.

No, it mattered. It mattered very much. Kate froze and broke the kiss, pulling away from him with reluctance. "I…" she found herself again at a loss for words. "Ewan—Father Remington… I'm not sure this is appropriate." She was flushed and breathless, and wanted nothing more than to kiss him again. The words hung without meaning between them.

He understood, she could tell from his posture even if she couldn't see his face in any detail. He nodded and, respectfully, stepped away from her. "I believe it is far past time for the both of us to retire, Sister," he murmured. "Sleep well."

And he was gone, slipping away into the dark depths of the corridor. Kate sagged against the wall, gazing with sad resignation up at the moon through the high windows. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned…"


End file.
